


Quixotic

by wasted_potential_007



Series: Aureate August 2018 [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, Kissing, fluff- ish?, i love them, they're both idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 16:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15799914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasted_potential_007/pseuds/wasted_potential_007
Summary: Natasha tries to ask Maria on a date. It doesn't go so well.





	Quixotic

**Author's Note:**

> "Quixotic- v. to be excessively romantic or chivalrous; illogical, idealistic, overall dreamy."  
> Day 25 of Aureate August 2018
> 
> again, too long, so i put it as its own thing.

**Prompt:**  Quixotic

**Word Count:** 1332

**Rating:** T+

**Warnings:** None

* * *

 

The first time Natasha tries to ask Maria Hill out, it doesn’t work out so well.

It’s after a training session and Hill’s just dismissed a group of sweaty and disgruntled rookies when Natasha strides over, her eyes burning into Maria’s, her proximity just a little too close to be considered professional. 

“Do you want to go out for drinks sometime?” Natasha asks, putting on her usual bravado in an attempt to hide her nervousness.

Hill stares at her like she’s grown an extra head. “We’re in a metal fortress forty thousand feet up in the sky, Natasha. There’s really no room to go out for drinks.”

Natasha knows that Maria’s just being her normal self; snarky, sarcastic, frank, but it doesn’t do anything to soften the sting of Hill’s response. And she’s pretty sure that Maria wasn’t rejecting  _ her _ , just her proposition of getting drunk on the Helicarrier and she can almost see why; it really isn’t the smartest thing to do.

She’ll find another way. She always does.

\---

Natasha decides to make a sort game out of it, because there’s nothing more fun than watching Maria puzzle over something (it’s kind of cute when she furrows her eyebrows in concentration, but Natasha would never admit to thinking that). Besides, it gives her something to do when she’s sitting on the Helicarrier, other than beating the living shit out of a punching bag/Clint.

The first thing she chooses to do is simple; maybe, hopefully, it’ll get the message across.

Roses.

Should be foolproof, right?

And Natasha even goes the whole nine yards; requesting shore leave, going to the local flower shop, spending thirty dollars on a dozen red roses and ten more to make it a bouquet, complete a glass vase and those little white buds that made the arrangement look halfway decent. She drops the vase off the next morning, attached to it a little card that just has a heart drawn on it and the letter “N”.

It’s simple, it’s decently easy, and it absolutely  _ does not work _ .

Natasha watches from the vents with interest as Maria walks into her office, takes one look at the roses, then proceeds to throw them out, not even taking the time to look at the card.

Apparently, Hill does not like flowers. And forty dollars (plus tax!) go down the drain, or more accurately, down to the large trash bins hidden in the Helicarrier.

\---

The next thing Natasha tries is just as stereotypically romantic as the first one; chocolates. She leaves the red heart-shaped box filled with Venezuelan-imported chocolates on Maria’s desk, a note (not a card, this time, Maria  _ has  _ to read it) taped on top with another heart and “from N” written on it.

Maria regards the box with interest, taking a moment to read the note before ripping it off and shredding it, along with any of Natasha’s hopes that this idea was going to work.

Hill eats the chocolates though, which could be considered a win but really isn’t, at least in Natasha’s mind.

\---

“Someone keeps leaving these weird gifts on my desk,” Maria says, barging into the break room where Natasha is sitting, pouring a cup of coffee for herself and plopping down on the couch next to the agent.

“Oh?” Natasha responds, trying not to show too much interest in the subject. 

Their coffee “dates,” if you will, have become somewhat of a weekly thing; they just rant about the annoying things in their lives for a couple of hours before returning to whatever threat needs their attention. They even go out to dinner sometimes, when their shore leave dates match up and the powers allow them to have a nice meal uninterrupted, once, they even went to a concert. It’s a good way to release some of the frustration that is built up from the week and Natasha finds herself feeling lighter after one of their meetups, although she doesn’t know why it’s because of Maria or the talking.

Hopefully both. Probably Maria.

“Yeah,” Maria says, leaning back against the pillows casually. “I mean… what’s the point?”

“Of what?”

“Of gifts. Just seems like another way to bribe people, if you ask me,” Maria says, taking a sip of her coffee before looking at Natasha. “Your turn. What’s Clint gone and done this week?”

Natasha lets out a short laugh, mentally thinking of the idiotic things her partner has done. “Well, there was this incident in Barcelona involving a flamethrower…”

\---

Gifts don’t, and won’t, work, so she switches to messages. 

Natasha writes little notes on post-its, messages like “smile more” and “you look nice today,” all complete with a heart and the letter “n” next to them. It’s a little much, Natasha realizes, the little blue and pink notes pasted around Maria’s office, the whole idea borderlining “ridiculous” and “over-the-top” but she’s really been left with no choice.

Maria seems to think it’s stupid and rips off the notes one by one, throwing them all into the trash. 

She tries food after that, leaving a pastry or a cup of coffee on Maria’s desk, attached with a little card like always. But like the chocolates, Maria just throws away the note and eats the food while working on her computer. 

Natasha hates to admit it, but this just isn’t working and she’s almost out of ideas.

When Natasha meets Maria later in the breakroom, Maria grabs two cups of coffee instead of one and sits at the table, slowly rubbing her head as she sips the dark liquid.

“I think I have a stalker,” Maria proclaims, “or a secret admirer. I don’t know. It’s giving me a headache.”

Natasha stays silent because for once, she doesn’t know what to say.

“I feel a little bad though, how are they supposed to know there’s someone else I’m involved with?”

“Someone else?” Natasha immediately asks, watching as Maria’s expression turns into confusion.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Maria asks. Upon receiving no response from Natasha, only a look of utter bewilderment, Maria continues after a moment of complete silence. 

“It’s you Natasha. The someone else is you.”

“How?” It’s the first thing that comes to Natasha’s shocked mind, and admittedly one of the worst things to say as Natasha attempts to backtrack. “I mean, we were dating this whole time?”

“Well, I thought so,” Maria replies, her coffee abandoned as she sits straight up. “These meetings with the coffee, the concert, the restaurants? Weren’t those dates?”     

“I thought it was a thing that friends do?” Natasha asks. “Concerts?”

“Natasha, I put on a fancy suit and actually took the time to do my makeup,” Maria deadpans, looking Natasha straight in her green eyes.

“But I never- we never kissed?”

“I thought you didn’t want to!” Maria says, her voice getting higher and higher. She looks at Natasha again, and this time it’s different, Natasha can feel herself getting lost in the blue pools from across the room and there’s a certain electricity between them.

Their lips crash together not even a second later, their tongues battling for dominance as they kiss, Natasha straddling Maria’s lap as Hill sits on the plastic chair, her hands clutching Natasha’s ass.

And then suddenly, Maria’s back is touching the ground, her head millimeters from the floor because apparently, they tipped the goddamn  _ chair  _ over. Natasha immediately pulls back, her forehead a couple of inches from Maria’s face.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to,” Natasha says, half-breathless. Maria chuckles slightly, looking around the dirty floor.

“Nat, we tipped over the chair,” Maria says, chuckling softly. Natasha just smirks at her, watching as a grin spread across Maria’s face.

“What about the stalker?” Maria suddenly asks. “What do you think I should do about them?”

“That was me,” Natasha admits, “trying to ask you out.”

“Oh my god, we’re officially idiots,” Maria says and Natasha leans in to catch Maria’s lips once again, a grin spreading across her face as they kiss.     


End file.
